


Stress Relief

by MilitaryPenguin



Category: Todoku Mokushiroku Kaiji
Genre: M/M, Sleepy Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-01
Updated: 2011-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-15 02:50:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2212929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MilitaryPenguin/pseuds/MilitaryPenguin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ichijou and Murakami take it easy after a hard day's work. With sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stress Relief

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the following request:  
> "Murakami/Ichijou  
> tired after work stress relief sex. u___u Nice and lazy and slightly sleepy"

Ichijou crawled on top of the bed, still fully clothed except for his now-discarded jacket, tie, and shoes. Normally he wouldn’t want to risk the wrinkling of good clothes, but in a battle of awareness and sleepiness, the latter was winning by a landslide. Work had been hell for him today and he wanted nothing more than to just sleep the exhaustion off.   
  
Murakami was similarly beat from work, though still had the energy to undress down to his boxer shorts. He leaned over the worn out Ichijou’s body, running a hand down the buttons of his shirt.  
  
"Sir? Shall I…?" he asked, fingers pinching at the top button.  
  
Ichijou nodded lazily and Murakami set off to work. Despite his big, powerful-looking hands, Murakami was surprisingly gentle at handling demandingly delicate jobs. It, no doubt, came with the line of work they were in with adjusting the Bog’s settings.  
  
Murakami pulled his shirt off and smoothed it out before placing it on a wire coat hanger. Off came his undershirt, pants, and socks. Murakami climbed back on top of him, fingers sliding into the waist of his underwear.  
  
"Sir, if you’re too tired…"  
  
Ichijou shook his head. “No, keep going, Murakami.”  
  
Murakami slid the manager’s underwear down, then took off his own. He fetched a tube of lubricant from one of Ichijou’s top dresser drawers and squirted it on his fingers, covering his dick in it and then squirting some more for Ichijou’s entrance. Ichijou tiredly opened his legs, allowing Murakami to slide two fingers inside of him. The fingers massaged at a slow pace—whether out of regard for Ichijou’s drained state or Murakami’s own drowsiness, Ichijou could not say, but it was appreciated nonetheless. He moaned contentedly.  
  
Murakami slid his fingers out and his dick in, softly pushing into him. The slow rocking of Murakami’s hips against his made Ichijou feel more sleepy than stimulated, and reached out to hook his arms around Murakami’s shoulders, hoping that stretching out the muscles in his arms would wake his body up, if only a little. He tried to concentrate on the movement of Murakami’s shoulder blades beneath his fingers.  
  
Then—“Ah!”—he finally felt it. Murakami had hit the right spot. Excited to have gotten the right reaction, Murakami pumped his way into his boss a little faster, Ichijou digging his manicured nails into his flesh.  
  
"I-Ichijou!"  
  
Murakami shuddered as he climaxed into Ichijou—warm, milky fluid splashing inside him. He collapsed on to Ichijou, the latter giving a choked gasp at the former’s weight on his. Both lay on one another for a while, chests heaving, naked bodies covered in a light coat of sweat.   
  
Murakami brushed Ichijou’s sticky bangs out of his face and kissed him on the lips, then suddenly pulled back with a shocked expression on his face.  
  
"S-sir! Please forgive me!"  
  
"Mm?" said Ichijou, drowsily lifting his head, "For what?"  
  
"I called you by your name…I really should have gotten your permission first…!"  
  
"Murakami."  
  
"Yes sir?"  
  
"Go to sleep."


End file.
